


Jeez, Mom, you're not the fashion police!

by kittybenzedrine



Category: Umbrella Academy
Genre: Gen, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, i make the umbrella kids suffer too much so i wanted a bit of happy in my works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:50:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6194030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittybenzedrine/pseuds/kittybenzedrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus had a little game he liked to play as a teen.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Mom Hargreeves internally suffers because of her son's poor life choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeez, Mom, you're not the fashion police!

Klaus had a little game he liked to play as a teen. It was harmless enough, and he'd gotten some good laughs out of it.

Mom usually didn't approve of what he wore, but would never say it. She'd look him over with motherly disapproval and a scowl. She'd raise a hand in his direction, open her mouth to say something, then sigh and turn away. That whole deal. It was his favorite form of entertainment, and it caused no injuries!

(His second favorite form of entertainment was also quite funny. He'd sit somewhere, look unassuming. Read a book, color in a coloring book. As soon as he'd hear someone coming, though, he'd set up a telekinetic force field for whoever to walk into. He'd caused a great number of bloody noses and gotten beat up for it, but god, was it always worth it. Anywho.)

One day, after she'd nearly spoken up about his outfit of choice, he developed his game. He'd wear something awful or ridiculous, and try his hardest to get her to say something about it. A few weeks later, after no comments from her, he decided that the outfit style the she finally commented on would be the one he stuck with for a while. No matter how embarrassing, he'd stay with it for a bit.

She nearly choked on her coffee the morning he came down in a striped button up sweater, the red, blue, and gray colors clashing with his brown slacks. He'd even slicked his hair back.

All of his siblings muffled laughs and snorts into their breakfast. They all were in on what he was doing. In fact, Ben, Vanya, and Allison all got paid by him rather frequently to make some of his garish outfits.

He came down in a bed sheet toga at one point, but she forced him to go back upstairs and change. Her main concern had been the sheet, so he decided that her speaking up about it didn't count.

Another morning, he debated on what to wear. He'd gone to the thrift store the day before and gotten a whole slew of undesirable clothes. The one he settled on nearly made her tear out a chunk of her hair as she ran her fingers though it.

The shirt was a button up, which was nice enough, with a tie and respectable pair of pants. However, the shirt sleeves were piss yellow and bright enough to hurt your eyes. The body of the shirt looked like it had been dyed in pink highlight ink. The tie he'd chosen was a deep violet, and the pants a heavy green.

And of course, the neon orange collar was popped. Can't forget the popped collar.

"You look like a rejected box of crayons," was the only comment that day, from his lovely blonde brother. Diego, naturally, had conveniently "accidentally" put the tie in Klaus' laundry basket instead of his own.

Everyone liked to lend him clothes for it, too, which was a big help.

Coming down the stairs with a pair of Ben's huge pants belted above his bellybutton, in a too-tight cropped shirt of Allison's got him a wonderful look of horror. He'd nearly broken his facade and laughed.

He had to roll up the cuffs of the pants five times just so the giant pants didn't drag on the floor. The shirt had to be cut off of him at the end of the day because no one could wrestle it off of him.

The day he waltzed into the kitchen in a tight, torn dress of Vanya's, he thought he'd broken Mom. She stood there, silent, just staring. He silently hoped she'd say something because holy shit dresses were comfortable.

"That dress actually fits your curves really well," Ben commented, breaking the silence.

Klaus turned to his sibling, a smile on his pale lips. He pressed a hand to his flat left breast, over his heart. "Why thank you!"

Mom had disappeared into the kitchen by that point, leaving no comment. Hm. He needed to try harder than that, then.

He adorned a pair of Allison's tight black pants and a plain shirt, neatly tucked in. Mom didn't notice, but his brothers did.

"Those pants are like a cheaply built castle," Diego commented, and Space started snickering at the other end of the table.

"What do you mean?" Klaus asked, carefully sitting.

"No ballroom."

"Yeah, no kidding. I don't have to worry about sitting on my balls, they're plastered to my leg."

They all laughed at his misfortune, and Mom chastised the two of them for inappropriate table conversation.

Over the course of the next few days, everything he wore became black. She actually seemed to like it, telling him it made his hair and eyes look lovely. Harder and harder, he had to try.

She didn't notice the nails until he'd painted both finger and toes. She simply sighed, used to her odd son doing strange things. Next was the eyeliner, which got him a hard look. But still, she didn't comment.

It was hard finding makeup for skin as pale as his, but he managed to do it. In one night, he was taught how to contour and highlight, how to make his eyeliner do a smoky effect, and how to fill in his eyebrows properly. He redid his makeup four times that night, until both sisters were satisfied that he had it down.

Everyone was thoroughly disappointed when Mom didn't say anything. Her eyes, however, got comically wide, which made it just a little better.

The lipstick finally did it.

Pinks and reds, she could handle. Even the weird orange colors that matched his hair, she could do. But not the black. 

"Klaus..." She said quietly, causing all conversation to immediately end. 

He looked up, hoping to keep how pleased he was out of his expression. "Yes, Mom?"

"Look, baby. I know you're growing up and you're just trying to express yourself, but I think you're... Well, you're going a bit overboard. You're a handsome young man, and I'm sure some girl-" She hesitated for a moment, while all the others giggled and snorted, "Er... Boy, some boy will find you attractive with the makeup. But all the black makeup, especially that lipstick, it's just a little much. And I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, baby, I promise."

He couldn't suppress his grin. "Well, Mom, I actually rather like how this looks. I've been trying to find a style that I like for months, and this is the most comfortable I've been with a style."

She looked so horrified that he couldn't stop himself from the laughing.

 

 

A few years later, he offhandedly mentioned his odd choice of dress as a teenager. She made a face as she read the paper.

"Yes, I remember that. Though I'd rather not."

"Wanna know something?" He asked, a small smile on his black painted mouth.

Mom raised a brow at him, closing the newspaper. "Is it something disgusting?"

He grinned at her. "Unless you count my personality, no. The whole reason I wore such awful outfits is because I had this little game I played. Everyone was in on it, and lent me stuff for it. Basically, I'd wear the most ugly outfits I could to see if you'd comment on it. When you'd finally comment, I'd stick with that style of outfit for a few weeks.

"However," he continued, watching her eyes slowly narrow. "This is the type you finally commented on. But I'd already kinda grown to like it, so I've stuck with it."

Quietly, she let out a breath and rolled up her newspaper. He nearly asked her what she was doing, until she smacked him over the head with it a few times like a bad puppy.

He laugh, loud and deep. When he looked, she had a faint smile on her lips as she unrolled her paper.


End file.
